


Two Seconds

by levitatethis



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-17
Updated: 2010-05-17
Packaged: 2017-10-09 12:44:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/87633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levitatethis/pseuds/levitatethis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An elaborate thought process from one character that in real time (on the show) would have amounted to two seconds...does that make sense?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Seconds

_But everything worth it hurts a little bit   
You don’t want to run away   
And I won’t let you anyway   
‘Cause we’re doing it for the cause   
How do you suppose I get anything done?   
You’re making it so hard   
But you’ll never got to Heaven as a radical son   
Keep it up you soldier   
You want out   
I can’t help   
I’ve got to make you understand   
You’ve got to take it like a man.   
_**-Dragonette, _Take It Like A Man_**_   
_  
It all flashes by you.

A flipbook of words and images, it tells a hundred different stories.

How did you get here, to this precise moment, slightly out of your element? This should not exist in any form or thought. Defensive is not what you do.

Yet here you are and it is so real that you are certain the pounding of your heart can be heard by him.

Why does he matter so much?

He was nobody to you all that time ago, another lifetime when the other path was the only thing in your sight, nothing but a faceless name in countless stories. You had declared him to be inconsequential.

That is the way it should have remained; would have remained until…

Quite literally knocked at the door.

You do not need anyone. Self-sufficient, self-reliant, it was as it should be, exactly as you wanted it.

Then he was suddenly there, in the way but useful for a time. The hands moving in precision, the hour overtook the minute and now he is permanent.

You are running this show, calling the shots in timed sequence but he is throwing the rhythm off. It should not be this difficult.

You do things with strength of ease, or you did.

Even then he knew the old rug trick. Everything going along, not exactly as planned but you were willingly flexible for the first time in your life, and then you were upside down and inside out while he reminded you of your own mortality.

No one does that to you.

Except him.

He was the first one to _see you_ and he will be the last. Can he even begin to understand that? While surroundings are torn to shreds, stripped of comprehension, you showed yourself.

Now here you are and none of it makes sense for a myriad of reasons and all of it makes sense for the same ones. Coherent thoughts are for those with time on their hands and right now time is of the essence.

You are in a tailspin, a death spiral with the earth hurtling towards you – and isn’t that how it always is with others feebly trying to rearrange you – but he does not know that (yet) so get yourself together.

Did you hand him the power? Was it you who unknowingly gave him the metaphorical wink to resist you, to challenge you? How did he slip this by you yet again? He is the one who was supposed to be distracted, yet all this time he has been in step with you.

And not just today.

Right now is only the latest. At some point he decoded your footsteps, while you were not watching, and kept up with you. Although the pace was different (it was his own) the pattern you both beat out was nearly indistinguishable to your ears.

You are somehow still confused by the fact that there is this much meaning here with him as ever before. Every word spoken, every gesture displayed, every conversation wordlessly conveyed between your eyes has been mired in meanings. You are both fluent in this language that no one else could even begin to learn.

Times like these you wonder if it is even worth it, any of this, all of this. Why can you not cut him out and save yourself the trouble? He has somehow burrowed his way into you, not that you would ever let him know that; why can’t you dig him out? What hold does he have?

You are stronger, smarter and willing to go as far as you need to.

Who does he think he is?

Nothing.

He is nothing like the stories led you to believe.

The man who existed as some abstract character in your mind, a non-entity, is not the man who appeared, flesh and blood.

You should have been warned. Had you known the truth you may have avoided meeting him altogether, or at least altered the circumstances under which you first crossed paths. But there was no “Beware!” or “Enter at your own risk”, so you unintentionally got involved, an unavoidable consequence of a rule-less match, and now you cannot imagine your life without him in it in some capacity.

He is a fixed point.

He makes you feel worthy in a way no one else ever has. Each step of the way he has let you cautiously closer, an inch here, a conversation there, a breath upon a look upon a smile; he has combatively retaliated, reminding you that he cannot be controlled as a possession or pet to play with. No one else has ever…

You have certainly tried to exert your command, although now you do it more out of a warped idea of fun.

He gets that, usually. It depends on the context.

He is deserving, because he sees it in you, because he took the time and still refused to back down.

Meaning is bestowed on you through his careful actions. You return the favour with understanding.

Emotions thought dormant, he has brought tears to your eyes, laughter to your voice and reflection to your thoughts. Instead of the necessary coldness in your calculated threats he has drawn out the desperation that comes of attachment.

You seek his approval is the hushed refrain.

There is something to lose.

He makes you question your moves and rethink your choices, keeping you on your feet. He does not realize it but he keeps you well trained; attached to the earth, bound to him.

You are bound to him.

Still he manages to trip you up on occasion.

This moment in particular is burning through you. Again you gave him too much leeway, blinded by personal distractions, and he strung you along. It is your own undoing as much as his.

But you do not hate him for it. You should.

Frankly you are intrigued by his audacity. He has taken great risk and put so much on the line that you cannot help but feel a baffling admiration.

Does he read that on your face or only see disheartened resolve?

Is the situation too intense to scan between the lines? Another time then.

Right now with everything at stake you are calling his ruse. His portion of trying to rule this game is finished and now you will gladly take over. Enough with the chit chat, panic is brewing inside and you need to move things along. Quickly.

This is the problem with having someone who gets you. When that person infuses every thought, when you can feel his presence along the ridges of your skin, when seeing him again reminds you why you will never be rid of him, not that you want that, is when you know you are in this deeper than you thought.

Deeper than anyone in your position should be.

Is it any wonder that for all your self-assurance he can still bring you to your knees, even if it is only briefly.

_He_ is capable of doing this to _you._

The only one who can.

You never let him forget your own persistence to live, though. He needs the reminder that the pendulum swings both ways; that it always returns from where it came.

No thing is totally out of your grasp no matter how tightly he holds on, a secret guarded with his life; those ones are always more worth the fight.

Power is not held by only one of you, a point you have grudgingly accepted. Rather it passes back and forth, and right now it has settled back in your hands.

As it should, especially considering…

There is unequivocal fear in his eyes. Fear of the gun you have pointed at him; fear of the bullet restlessly hunkering down in the chamber that he is certain is intended for him.

Of course he should be afraid after what he has done but when is he going to realize that you never plan to kill him, yes once at the very start before this became what it is, but not now and not today.

You would shoot him to make a point, but not to kill, never to kill. Intent is everything.

The look of fear written on his face, the wide eyes and the slightly quivering mouth, would be fine if not for the wrong reasons.

After everything how could he possibly still think this? If you had wanted to you would have done it already and not just earlier today. Does he truly not see what has been displayed before him with such personal calculation? Is it this sudden counter move that has caught him off guard and rendered him blind?

How could he have forgotten everything?

Where does he get off being afraid of you when he has been playing with your life all of this time. He has let death dangle in front of your eyes knowing the urgency driving you, his own invisible gun, only to act now as if he never saw this coming.

It may be what you two do, but _this _has escalated the…game? No, not right now. You are both so beyond this game at this second and all you can think is _how far do you want to take this_? because his actions shout _let’s go_ but his face is dejectedly muttering _stop_.

He is expecting a litany of threats and though a few fitfully work their way to your tongue they do not cross your lips.

He is expecting you to rip him apart, to make an example out of him. But when it comes to him you have not been that person for some time, time enough that this seems unacceptable.

He is not thinking clearly and though it thrills you to inflict on him the chaos of that uncertainty he should still know better; why doesn’t he know better? Why are you both doing this right now?

You have thrown him the rope many times before this day to keep himself adrift, or to hang himself with. Excuses of reasons; what more has to happen for him to appreciate that he is different to you from all the others?

As pertains to him, and only him, you have set rules in place. Rules you have committed yourself to, for the both of you.

Why could this not have been the real part? It almost was in that split moment caught between strong words and unbroken will. That glimpse of something more ripped away too fast to really say for certain if it was as you thought.

Of all the obstacles there is still one that seems insurmountable. You have rationalized it almost at nauseam, reconstructed and repackaged with words, but he is still not buying, his resistance so loyal and disparaging, and if you could just get past it then maybe…maybe…

Your thoughts are jumbled up in each other and he is looking panicked and scared which only maddens you since he has been messing with you just as much as you have been toying with him and the weight of the gun in your hand grounds your mind which feels weightless by way of scattered thoughts and there are so many things you want to say but none of it makes sense and this is not the time as much as it is the perfect timing since he is still the only person you can count on in some fashion, or at least the only person you have felt that with, but right now it is a mess and the only words that come forth, the only coherent sentence forming that still makes a point because, damn it you are not going to kill him no matter what he thinks, but you still need to be very clear about this and the only thing you can say in this moment as you look him straight in the eyes, unflinching and with reverence is,

“You and I have trust issues, doctor.”   
 

**Author's Note:**

> Heroes Slash Awards  
> **Nominated for Best Sylar Characterization** (twice)
> 
> Mylar Fic Awards  
> **Nominated for Best Powerless!Sylar Characterization**


End file.
